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Monday, Apr. 19, 2004 / 8:17 p.m. ~I Can Bring Home the Tofu, Rinse It and Drain It For Soup~ I've just eaten two bowls of hot and sour soup that I cooked myself. I am so proud. Pride goeth before some fall or other, though, so I'll not pat myself too hard on my back. I'll just say it was a recipe in Martha Stewart's food mag, Everyday Food, and it was simple, everyday-ish in fact, and I'd bought some lovely shiitakes at the Farmer's Market slash Whole Foods on Friday, and really should not have waited this long to cook them, but all in all, I prepared the soup because of them. And because the photo of said soup in said magazine was so enticing. Damn, I'm good, er, I mean it was good. And I poured the leftovers into one of those plastic Chinese Restaurant soup takeout plastic containers. How ironic. Or fitting. Or perfect, really. It's lovely. I feel good, I am full, so very, and I cleaned before and after, not the nitty gritty scour and scrub cleaning which needs to be done, but I washed dishes and didn't make a mess, and such. And I'm doing a load of laundry too. Good god, could I BE any more productive? I worked my first 8:00 - 5:00 shift today, and my alarm woke me, as I'd asked it to, or begged, or bade, is that the past tense of to bid? Oh, oh, I was taking a computer learning English Grammar test thing at work at the end of the day, and I suck. I got up to the past progressive tense and flipped, had to log off. What the? I can write, right? I don't need to know what these words are called, I just need to be able to string them all together. Right? I had no work to do, Monday is a slow day all the way around at work, and that was learning on company time, so sure, but learning at the end of the day, especially trying to cram more knowledge into my senile mind, is not a good idea. I can't concentrate, I can't absorb, it's futile. I got my Amazon order today too. Rapid topic shift there. Not that I even mentioned it here, and not that it matters, but I only placed it a day or two ago, or so it seems, but then again, the senility, it ensures time has little meaning, which can be nice. I now own Ali Farka Toure's "Talking Timbuktu". Oh, sorry, Ali Farka T. and Ry Cooder, together. It's African Blues, and it's fantastic. I lurve it. And, a recommended tome, one Labyrinth of Desire - Women, Passion, and Romantic Obsession. I'm just studying, is all. No, really. Okay, so it was recommended because I was losing my mind over some asshole, but that's all over with now, and we'll read all about it and see why I do what I do, and why I do it the way I do it, and we'll learn of other women who are crazy, or who also do the same things, who are obsessed, or passionate, or romantic, yeah, that's it, romantic. So really, that's it. I listened to Ali and Ry, great names those, and washed dishes, and cooked hot and sour soup, and I'm full of hot and sour soup (and why is it impossible to find regular chicken broth in cans in the store now?, it's all low sodium, or 99% fat free, what if one wants fat and sodium?, I ask, what if?), and I watched Santa's Little Helper finally sit, stay, shake hands, roll over and etc., on "The Simpsons", and I'm letting some clothes spin 'round in the dryer, and season two of "The Restaurant" is on in an hour and a half, and that shall be fun to watch, the air conditioning is on, as it was warm today, and Gladys is lying like cats sometimes do, legs out in front of her, one paw resting atop the other, and really, leaving work at 5:00 is sweet, getting there at 8:00, and having nothing to do 'til the mail comes sucks, but all in all?, to end a super long paragraph?, I can still taste the ginger and the rice wine vinegar, and the shiitakes, and all is well. Really. A new book, a new CD, a new recipe tried and succeeded, a full belly, clean clothes, lazy cats, is there more a person could want?? Cost of the War in Iraq
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